


Things you don't want your gf to hear in the middle of the night when you've already tried to kill her once

by Hacereadsenochian (Grannahreadsenochian)



Category: Fast & Furious (Movies), Hobbs & Shaw (2019)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28931829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grannahreadsenochian/pseuds/Hacereadsenochian
Summary: POV: you're in a jason statham movie and your only dialogue options are fuck, fuck me, and motherfuckerDex has a nightmare and Ramsey knows better than to try and shake him from it
Relationships: Ramsey/deckard
Kudos: 2





	Things you don't want your gf to hear in the middle of the night when you've already tried to kill her once

Something had woken Ramsay. The sky was still black. She listened for the fading sound of a car driving away, but the streets were quiet. Hmp. She rolled onto her back and pulled the covers up to her chin, and shut her eyes to go back to sleep. 

Dex flinched next to her. 

If he keeps me awake, Ramsay thought blearily, I'm kicking him to the couch.

"Motherfucker, do it".

Ramsay's eyes shot wide open. She stared at her partner.

He was on his side facing her, his eyes dancing around under closed lids. His hands clenched and unclenched. 

Ramsay opened her mouth, but no words came out. She had never heard him talk like this. 

He bucked, and his eyes shot open and his mouth parted silently. He was rigid for a moment, and then went limp with a pained breath. He lay, his chest heaving. 

Ramsay leaned closer, searching his face. His eyes stared sightlessly into hers. 

Her hand inched towards his face, to wake him, to shake him from his sleep. Another flinch wracked his body, and she pulled back her hand like lightning. Get out of the bed, she thought, get out of the bed, get away from him. She kicked her legs out of the sheets and crouched on the floor next to the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. A pained sound came from the form above her, and panting and agitated movements. 

Fuck this, fuck this fuck this fuck this fuck fuck fuck-

She couldn't get to the bedroom door fast enough. She closed it behind her, finally putting something between her and the man in her bed, and pressed her forehead to it, breathing shallow, shaking breaths. 

"Fuck!" she whispered out loud, passionately. 

There were spare linens in the bathroom closet. She wrapped herself in them and curled up in the living room, on the armchair across from the room. Her eyes stayed glued to the door. 

The blanket smelled like him. She took a deep breath. Her heart lurched. It would have been so easy for her to kill her. His hands around her neck, his body on top of hers, his eyes filled with that look- she squeezed her eyes shut. Don't think about it, don't think about it. 

She had only seen that look the one time. He hadn't always wanted to kill her. That was just the one time, and she could call it a misunderstanding. Once he was out of prison he'd been good to her, he'd been perfect. He saved her life more than once. And she began to see a different look in his eyes, one more kind. More affectionate. 

Don't think about his eyes. 

The noises had stopped a long time before the bottom of the sky started to lighten. The occasional truck whooshed by the apartment, the clock ticked in the kitchen. Ramsays eyes closed and her head dropped to her chest, but she kept waking up, and her eyes went to the door. 

The bed creaked. She heard a muffled "fuck", and more creaking. Her head lifted as the door handle turned, and Dex peered blearily out, his eyes searching the dim apartment before landing on Ramsay. 

"Fuck me," he said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at her, his brow creased. "You okay?" He asked finally. 

Ramsay didn't know what to say to that. Was she supposed to be okay?  
She slid deeper inter her blankets. 

Dex jerked his head towards the room behind him.  
"Go back to bed," he said. Ramsay didn't move.  
"Go on," he repeated. He moved out of the doorway.

Ramsay's feet touched the cold floor as she stood, blanket wrapped around her like a shield. As she passed Dex he reached out and caught the edge. He turned her to face him and gently pulled the blanket away from her. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he said in a low voice. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Promise." There was an implied /again/. 

Ramsay tiptoed back to the door, after she'd stared at the ceiling in bed for a while. She'd left the door open a crack, and peered through it. She saw the shape of Dex's back, sitting at the island, his head in his hands. 

She went back to bed, staring at his empty space, probably for as long as he stayed with his head in his hands. Waiting for the sun to rise, waiting for what had happened to disappear like frost on a window, like fog on the beach. 

When golden rays peeked in through the blinds, and there were sounds of brewing in the kitchen, and the smell of dark roast wafted through the cracked door, then Ramsay finally fell back into an easy slumber. In a few hours she would wake up, go out to a mug of coffee, and act like nothing had ever woken her in the middle of the night.


End file.
